The Weight of Us
by The Lady Avaritia
Summary: With her, it doesn't hurt as much.


**Title: **The Weight of Us

**Rating: **T  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>general

**Characters**: Shino, Hinata

**Summary: ** The cicadas cried softly in the tall grass. Their songs told endless stories of the sweet poison of love, and the gentle cold hands of Mistress Misery. It doesn't hurt.

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Naruto… No, you don't want to know…. Disclaimed.

**Author Note:** No idea how to explain this, other than with the fact that I'm a sucker for that pairing.

**Author: **_Lady Avaritia_

If silence could be described, the heavy quiet that lingered in Hinata's dark room would be painful. Not just painful, but searing hot, agonizing, bleeding. It was the sort of quiet that you couldn't break, or escape, because no matter what you said, it would be useless, and it would come out just wrong and awkward. And if Hinata hated anything, it was sounding awkward.

She didn't know for how long it had been quiet now. Shino lay on her bed, with his back to her, and she assumed he was either sleeping or staring intensely at the wall. Hinata was quite content with sitting on the wide windowsill and looking at the night outside. The air was hot and dry, laced with the scent of blooming white roses from the garden, which was mixed with the anesthetic stench of a dumpster somewhere in the neighborhood. The moon hung low and heavy, as if it couldn't bear the burden of the world anymore. The cicadas cried softly in the tall grass. Their songs seemed sad tonight as they told endless stories of the sweet poison of love, and the gentle cold hands of Mistress Misery.

Hinata drank in the details of the night greedily, desperate for an excuse not to look at her teammate lying on the bed. Silently a tear slid down her cheek. It was so unfair that some people had to suffer so much. Finally, unable to stand the silence anymore she turned towards the other end of the room, intent on saying something, anything that would break the spell that seemed to have fallen over them. In her mind, this might as well have been a genjutsu.

When she turned around, Shino was facing her. For what seemed like the hundredth time that night she drank in his features once more. He had sharp features that, had they been just a little sharper, would've looked unpleasant, but suited him just fine. He had deep light brown eyes with long eyelashes that were staring intently into her. His thin lips were twisted in an ugly smile that resembled more a grimace of pain. Why, why was the world so cruel to people like Shino? He hadn't done anything bad, anything!

'Why are you crying, Hinata-chan?' he asked softly.

'Because,' she whispered, 'Because someone has to cry, Shino-kun, someone has to… cry, and you're not – you're not doing it…so, I'm crying, Shino-kun, your tears, because you wouldn't cry for yourself.'

He nodded slowly, one perfect bend of the neck, and let an inaudible wince of pain. Hinata's eyes traveled down the dark purple and blue imprints of fingers on Shino's pale neck. The sharp contrast between his alabaster skin and the dark markings was startling. Shino's back and chest looked as if some mad artist had decided to create a masterpiece of anger and insanity. The white canvas of the boy's skin was marred with shades of blue, and green and purple that any artist would've killed to have at their disposal.

For anyone those markings would be considered something normal. Shinobi were the artists of death and they often sported some or another dead genius' masterpiece. But no fellow ninja had harmed Shino. And the knowledge of that twisted a dagger so deep in Hinata's heart that it was metaphorically digging through her spine, and rendering her immobile.

It had been Shino's father who hurt him. And it wasn't a first time. And knowing that made Hinata feel both angry and powerless. She passed through the room and reached the bed. The sheets were matted with Shino's blood, from when she'd cleaned and bandaged some deep cuts over his back and ribs. She hadn't wanted to know what had caused them, but her cursed bloodline limit had been able to recognize the shape of a belt buckle ebbed into the pale flesh.

Ever since he'd stumbled at the Hyuga compound some hours ago, Shino had barely spoken to Hinata. He didn't feel the need to explain, and she didn't feel the need to ask. It was almost as if the moment she saw him she _knew. _

'Shino-kun,' she said quietly, 'Wes should try and sleep a little.'

'Hn'

Hinata sat on the bed and leaned on the wall. Shino laid back and rested his head on the soft pillow of her chest. He slowly evened out his breathing with her heartbeat.


End file.
